Having recently found out about Ophelia's little flight, King Alec decided to take action against his daughter. He headed down toward the dungeon and walked quickly through the narrow passage to the end before turning to the door that Ophelia had noticed a few months ago. He pushed the door open, bearing the painful screeching noises it made. The boy still hung there, his wrists still coated with blood and his body still heavily bruised from the torture he had gone through. The boy looked up and glared and his visitor.
"Well, well, it has been quite a while hasn't it Earl, my boy?" the king began.
"It has," the boy hissed, "Too long."
"Can't thou taste freedom?" the king said.
"Freedom?" the boy asked.
"It's only a few words away," muttered the king.
The boy furrowed his brows, "What is it that thou wants?"
"Ophelia's death," King Alec replied.
"Ophelia?" the prisoner echoed.
"Aye... Ophelia..."
"I do not know an Ophelia," Earl said with a straight face.
"No, Ophelia has been down here before," replied the all-knowing king.
"So I jsut have to kill her," said Earl.
"Yes."
"How would thou know whether or not I do away with her?" inquired Earl.
"That is not important," came the answer.

Earl stretched his arms, absorbing the bright, warm sunshine that came to him.
"Enjoying your freedom?" the king asked, chuckling.
Startled, Earl whirled around and eyed the king suspicously. The king laughed loudly.
"Still have those fast reflexes, eh?" joked the king.

"Selgan, huh?" Earl muttered to himself as the dragon below him ascended into the blue sky.
The journey was a peaceful one, as he flew above the waters, Earl took his time in admiring the world he had not seen for many a year. The vast waters that lay in front of him was alien and strange. It was nothing like the cold, dark dungeon in which he had been confined in for so long. The landing field in Selgan was one of a kind, after all, no other country had a landing field. As the dragon descended, Earl jumped off eagerly, dismissing the dragon with a wave of his hand as he headed into the village with a sword strapped to his belt. The heart of the village was buzzing with activity. After taking a quick scan of the area, Earl came to the obvious conclusion that there was going to be a big celebration. Many of the small buildings that littered the sides of the designated walkways where small shops and restaurants. As a wanted criminal now, Ophelia would need to hide her face and could not possibly risk the chance of being caught, therefor eliminating the chance that she could be in any one of the inns. The only other possibility, would be that she had either purchased her own home, or she is secretly living within someone else's home. As he walked away from the heart of the village, the loud clamouring and hubbub began to fade into the distance. Silence lay in the grass, waiting for the traveler to pass by. Earl walked around for a bit, examining the different houses scattered in such a way that it seemed like they had been leaves blown to spots by the wind. Sighing, Earl sat down, "Too many houses."
However, one house caught his eye. Unlike the other houses, it seemed further out, and seemed to stand out. Earl slowly made his way over, and touched the wood. The new material was completely different to the eye when one looked close enough. The other houses, were probably five times as old as this one. Taking his chances, Earl mentally calmed and collected himself before entering the house.
Hearing the door creak open, Ophelia left her bedroom to see who had entered. She gasped, as her hands flew to her mouth.
"It...It is...thee...."
"Aye, so it is, we meet again, Princess," Earl replied, unsheathing his sword.
"What... what does thou plan to do?" Ophelia stuttered, backing away.
"My father gave the order to kill thee," answered Earl.
"Father?" Ophelia echoed.
"That is correct, thou may know him better as King Alec," said Earl.
Ophelia gazed at the shining sword, as it finally hit her. Her father, wanted her dead.
"King.. Alec... he... my father," stammered Ophelia.
"Enough talk!" Earl spat, "My sword cries for blood."
"Thou art going to kill me? But, we.. we are related are we not?" Ophelia uttered.
"Related?" a shocked Earl said, "We couldn't be."
"We have the same father," commented Ophelia.
"Father said thou was adopted," Earl muttered, clearly remembering his past conversations with the man who had put him in jail.
"I am not," Ophelia huffed.
"Thou are not adopted?" Earl stammered, completely missing the point.
"I am not!" Ophelia repeated.
Earl's sword landed on the floor as his knees followed suit.
"Sister..." Earl breathed.
Ophelia blinked, "I... I do not understand, how can thou be my brother."
"Not brother," Earl explained, " Half-brother."
Finally noticing that Earl was still kneeling, Ophelia too, got down on her knees.
"I do not yet know thy name," Ophelia said.
"Earl," the boy answered quickly.
Earl stared into Ophelia's eyes, losing himself in her perfect world of brown. He threw his arms around her.
"Sister..."